No Man is an Island
by motorcyclesfly
Summary: The man with the plan, Benjamin Linus, proves his mettle and saves the island, but not without a little help from Locke. My very first LOST fanfiction piece!


title: No Man is an Island

rating: R

pairing: Benjamin Linus/John Locke

other characters: Jack, some of the others and the people from the boat are mentioned.

summary: The man with the plan, Benjamin Linus, proves his mettle and saves the island, but not without a little help from Locke.

word count: 2,800

setting: the end of season four - the season finale, I believe.

warnings: some slash, though it's mostly something like friendship.

* * *

Water poured down; hot rain in the jungle. Torrential, it pounded against the leaves, rattling them, creating a percussive rhythm. Off in the distance, some creature stirred, roused from slumber by the veritable monsoon. Raising its head, it sniffed the air, which smelled of salt wafted in from the beach, and spilt petrol that had leaked into the ground long ago, from the decaying carcass of the old Oceanic aeroplane. Satisfied that all was well, it turned, curling into itself, and returned to sleep, to explore the world polar bears saw when they dreamed.

Neither of men crashing through the jungle paid any attention to either of these things. Benjamin Linus, leading the way, knew the bear's lair was close, but he trusted that the downpour would satisfactorily disguise his human scent, and the smell of the blood that dripped lethargically from his forehead. Behind him, John Locke knew only some of the island's secrets, but he also knew no fear, and his gait was quick and steady.

"How far?"

"Not much further, now," Ben replied. He licked his chapped lips, tasting coppery blood._Jack_, he thought, the name of the man who had assaulted him rising to his head. _Jack, Jack, Jack. Oh dear. The good doctor_, Ben thought, with grim amusement, _does not know when to stop_. He smiled, without any hint of kindness or joy. _Lucky for him, I forgive. One of these days, though, I'm certain he's going to push his luck_. "John," he continued, as the footsteps behind him slowed. "We need to maintain our pace. It's not much further now, but we haven't time to waste. Come on."

Crossing his muscular arms over his chest, John stood his ground. "Not until you tell me exactly where we're going."

Impatient, Ben sighed loudly, radiating exasperation from every pore. "I'm afraid you're going to have to trust me, John. There isn't time to tell you everything. We have to get to the station!"

"And why is that?" John raised one questioning eyebrow. "What's at this Dharma station that you need so urgently?" Shaking his head, he smiled, but the smile did not reach his eyes, which studied Ben, suspicious. "You want me to trust you? Well, you've got to understand, that's not as easy as it sounds." The smile faded as John's face became serious. "I just watched you stand by and look on while your daughter was murdered," he spoke, looking at the other man, whose face drained of colour. "You don't know these people as well as you thought you did, apparently. Alex is gone because you couldn't tell they weren't bluffing."

Tension masked any other emotion Ben felt as he nodded, his face grave. "They changed the rules!" he said, a note of accusation in his voice. "He never should have given permission for --"

"For what, Ben?" John prompted curiously as Ben shook his head, turning away. "Who are you talking about?"

Twisting away, Ben continued down the trail, his voice filtering back through the leaves to John, who did not budge. "Doesn't matter. Come on, John, we haven't got any time to waste. That crew from the boat, the ones with that helicopter, we can be sure none of them are standing around making small talk. We need to reach the station before they do. It is absolutely imperative that we do, for the survival of every living person on this island."

Unmoved, John shook his head. "What are you so afraid of?"

Whirling around, Ben glared at John, seething. There was ferocity in his eyes, and his features were drawn. Hands formed into fists, he met the other man's eyes. "Charles Widmore," he stated. "I showed you that video, John, so that you would believe me, so that you would know what type of man he was. Those people, the ones who came from the ship -- the are all his employees. They work for him. Now, do you suppose he's got anything nice in store for us here?" His sneer was raw, demented. "In case you're undecided, the answer is no," he continued, wryly. "I explained to you, back at the house, that Widmore plans to locate this island and then to exploit it. He's been through a lot of trouble already, and spent a great deal of money to ensure success for this venture. It's because of Widmore that the whole world believes you, and all your fellow survivors of the crash, to be dead. He was the man who financed what is perhaps the most expensive cover-up in the entire world."

Stepping closer, Ben set one hand on John's shoulder. "He wants this island for himself, John, but what he plans will destroy it, and all of us here will be killed in the process. Now, his people are surely making good time to the station. If they arrive and complete their mission, we're out of options. Widmore will come here, he will complete his work. So, are you going to come with me, help me, or do you want to go back to the beach with Jack?" He smiled icily, with teeth stained pink from his own blood.

Moving forward, John nodded. "I'm coming with you."

Nodding, Ben turned once more and hurried onward, pushing aside boughs and vines from the thick-set trees. Breathing in the warm, humid air, he scanned the way in front of him, searching for any sign that someone may have already passed the way he wanted to go and laid a trap. For a moment he paused, looking around curiously, but then he continued, his pace quickening despite the ache in his side. His weary body craved rest, but his mind was wide away and alert, even panicky.

As the vague outline of a building appeared in the distance, John slowed up, catching his breath. "Is that --"

"Quiet!" Ben hissed, holding up one hand. He cocked his head, listening. Above, the clouds reluctantly parted, and as the waning evening sun made its first appearance of the day, the rainfall slowed to a mild drizzle. Around them, the jungle steamed. Birds called to one another, and insects played quiet music beneath the tangle of vines and foliage. Frowning in annoyance, Ben crept forward a partial step, his brow furrowed in concentration. He glanced over to John, who was also listening.

"Footsteps," John mouthed silently, and felt his stomach flip apprehensively as Ben nodded back. _They're already here_, he thought, concerned. Withdrawing slightly, he pulled aside a massive palm frond and stepped off the trail, beckoning for Ben to do the same. "Hide," he indicated, and shifted, making room for his companion. Cloistered between trees, he peered around, but there was nothing to see but the endless verdant landscape. Beneath his feet, the ground was muddy, and he noticed recent footprints a little ways off. "There."

Nodding, Ben looked on. "The are here," he said, sighing slightly as though overwhelmed by an inconvenient burden. "Damn it."

Frowning, John shook his head. "Maybe we should head back, hole up someplace safe and figure things out. We can't just barge in there now; we can't risk getting caught. And if what you say is true, we can't just forget about it either."

"We aren't going anywhere."

"Ben, we need a plan."

The other man's eyes flashed dangerously as he smiled. "Haven't you learned by now, John? I always have a plan."

_______________

Twenty minutes later found Ben, wrapped protectively in a heavy coat and shivering terribly in spite of it, standing in a room dominated by blue ice, where the chill was so pervasive, his fingers turned numb within seconds. _Curse it_, he thought, in bad temper. _Island is bad for the body. Always so hot here, my blood's gotten thin. _Wiping away a thin rivulet of blood from his lip, he closed his eyes slightly and sighed dramatically, feeling very put out. _If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself_, he reminded himself sarcastically, but that barely eased the discomfort he felt as he crossed the room, moving slowly but steadily towards the wheel.

Breath streaming translucent clouds against the frigid air, Ben settled his hands on the wheel, wincing at the cold burn of the frozen metal. At his feet lay an old, worn strip of letter, imprinted with an achingly familiar logo. _Ursus maritimus_, he thought, with pained amusement. Kicking at it idly with the toe of his boot, he sighed once more. _It's gone now, gone into the jungle. It's safe enough now_. He caught his error, and uttered a dry chuckle. _Safe, on this island! I must be going soft in the head_. Grimacing, he tightened his grip on the wheel and pushed. The wheel, frozen solid and draped in a coating of ice, refused to budge.

"Need some help?"

Looking up in surprise, Ben goggled at the sight of the man standing on the lower rung of the ladder. John had not bothered with a coat, and in his sweat-dampened t-shirt, he looked terribly cold, but his impish grin was sincere enough.

"What are you doing down here?" Ben asked snappishly, standing upright. He jammed his hands into his pockets, wishing it were warmer.

Shrugging, John avoided Ben's eyes. "Came to check up on you, that's all. I thought you might use a little help."

"John," Ben said, flatly. The corners of his lips tugged up, into a smirk. "Do you honestly expect me to believe that? So, what really happened? Decided to meander down here to see what this place was?" He waggled his finger. "Curiosity killed the cat, you know."

"Well, then, I guess I came to say goodbye." Shivering, John walked gingerly across the ice. Sometimes, it still managed to creep up on him, that surprise he felt whenever he realised he was actually walking again. _No wonder Widmore's so hungry for this place. Miracle, that's what this island is. We are all experiencing a miracle. _At Ben's side, he paused, and reached out, settling a hand on Ben's upper arm. "You said, once somebody moves the island, they can never come back?"

Something akin to nostalgia, perhaps even remorse, shadowed Ben's eyes as he nodded. "That's right."

"Then I reckon I won't be seeing you again." John gnawed his lip, staring at the ice beneath his feet because it was too hard to meet Ben's eyes. "More people might come here, in the future. Who knows, maybe even Widmore's people, if he's as persistent as you seem to believe, but I've got a feeling about this place." He shrugged, and grinned, his eyes pleading for Ben's understanding. "I'm not ever getting off this rock."

Ben glanced down. "There might be other boats, submarines even. The island is full of surprises, John, you can never tell what's going to happen here. You never know. Perhaps there will be other chances -- in fact," he continued, nodding. "I'd bet my life on it."

"Yes, I'm sure," John confirmed. "But not for me. I've got nothing, back home. The island is my home," he amended, and a wistful sort of smile appeared on his face as he considered it. _The tropical winds, the waxy fronds from the mysterious flowered plants, so many secrets left to unravel, mysteries it would take several lifetimes to unfold. I could never go away from this place. _"Boats might come and some of the others might decide they're ready to leave, but I'm not going anywhere. If I'm the last man on this rock, so be it. This is where I was reborn; I'm honoured to have the chance to die here."

"You should not have to be the last one, to stay back here all alone."

John smiled. "On this island, I have the feeling, I'd never be entirely alone. Too many ghosts, and memories. But even so, even if some boat full of benevolent rescuers did sail in, and all the rest decided they wanted to head on back, I'd stay behind. Everything I need, it's all right here."

There was complete understanding in Ben's expression as he raised his hand, clapping it over John's own. "No man is an island, John."

Biting his lip to hide his grin, John nodded. "You should practise what you preach," he advised, but there was no recrimination in his tone, and he squeezed his fingers, feeling the warmth of Ben's hands. Suddenly, the wintry cold did not feel so bitter. "Ben, I ---"

His words were silenced as the other man, the man who the rest of his friends feared and mistrusted, the man who lied as easily as he breathed and deceived utterly without conscience, leaned forward. Their lips met, briefly at first, both unsure, and then kissing with heat, so that they forgot about the room of ice and the frozen walls, silently observing. Ben's hold on John's hands tightened as he allowed the other man to lead him backwards, pressing him against a metal door that was opaque with frost. Their tongues intertwined, each man fighting for his dominance, neither inclined to play the submissive, but both enjoying the brief skirmish.

Ben pressed back, forcing John to trade places, and as he slammed the other man against the wall, he slid his tongue delicately over John's lips, feeling rather than hearing it as the other man moaned gently. He could feel John's hands on him, the man's firm grip upon his hip and the press of John's erection against his own. _Enough_, his mind whispered suddenly, urgently, and reluctantly he stepped back. _Time is short, this can't wait. _"I'm sorry, John. The island must be moved. It's our last defence."

"I know," John agreed. He licked his lips, still tasting Ben on them, and ducked his head almost shyly, to hide the heat in his expression. "Guess you best be getting on with it, then," he said, indicating the stubborn wheel. "Suppose I ought to head back to the beach, and join the others. They'll need to know what's happened, and somebody will have to take charge."

"Now that Jack's gone, they'll be looking for a leader." Ben confirmed, nodding. He straightened his posture, trying not to shiver in the horrid cold. "They'll follow you, John. Whatever happens, they know they can rely on you." He reached out, extending his hand, and smiled ironically as John shook it. "Now, get on out of here. I've got work to do." _And that damn wheel had better move_, he thought, with a hint of frustration.

John nodded in agreement and backed away. He began to ascend the ladder, but paused, on the third step. "Take care of yourself, won't you?"

"Now John," Ben asked, smirking. He cocked his head, a sarcastic look on his face, though his eyes twinkled. "Do I strike you as a man who can't take care of himself?" Shrugging as John uttered a laugh, he returned to the wheel. Rusty, it groaned in protest as he applied pressure, and he sighed, annoyed with it. "You take care too, John," he said softly, not sure if the other man had heard him, and unwilling to look over his shoulder. There was a danger in nostalgia; if he hesitated, he knew it might lure him into giving up, climbing the ladder, and remaining in the place that was the only home he knew.

"For what it's worth," came John's voice, echoing slightly against the metal and the ice. He had stopped climbing at the top step, just inches from the door, and there he paused. "I don't think I believe you. About the curse," he said, waving his hands at the wheel as Ben looked up in bewilderment. "Or, whatever it is, that you claim makes it impossible to come back. Somehow, I don't think the island will hold you to that. You belong here, and it knows that just as plain as we do." With that, he waved, and then he climbed up, grasping the handle overhead and stepping through the doorway. Metallic, the door clanged as though in protest as he closed it.

Shaking his head ruefully, Ben chuckled slightly as heaved at the rusty wheel, which suddenly decided to cooperate, and slid forward easily, breaking the layers of ice which had kept it pinned. There was barely time to think, though Ben was aware of the vibrations beneath his feet, as though as massive earthquake had come to pass. _Take me someplace warm_, he thought, for the last instant that he remained in the freezing room. _Let me wake up under the hot sun, flat on my back in the sand_. He thought of John's words, and as the bright light flashed and the island shifted across time and space, Benjamin Linus smiled.


End file.
